Trick or Treat
by the ramblin rose
Summary: Caryl, AU. Oneshot. It's Sophia's first time going trick or treating, but it's a wonderful night for the whole Dixon family. Some Dixon language.


**AN: This unapologetically, over-the-top fluffy little one shot was inspired by therealsonia's request for Daryl and Carol to take Sophia trick or treating.**

 **I own nothing from the Walking Dead.**

 **I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!**

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"This is the last block," Daryl announced, rounding the corner. His back was killing him and it wasn't doing too much better than his feet. Carol, who was only barely managing to keep up and was mostly remaining a few steps behind him, was struggling too even though she was only carrying a pumpkin full of candy while Daryl was carrying, well, their actual little pumpkin.

"Not yet!" Sophia protested, squeezing at Daryl's neck hard enough that he fought the urge to choke.

"Let up on my throat, Soph," Daryl managed to spit out around his loss of air. At the command, Sophia loosened her grip a little.

"Not yet, Daddy!" Sophia declared. "You promised the whole neighborhood and I don't hardly got any chocolates!"

"You have a whole pumpkin full of chocolate," Carol answered from where she was walking. "And you're not eating all of this."

Daryl didn't have to see Sophia's face to know it was probably drawn up into the most pitiful expression that she could muster. He knew that look well. It was that look that had, ever since he'd known her or her mother, managed to win him over on just about every argument that wasn't life-threatening.

Sophia was seven and it was her first time trick or treating.

Sophia's biological father, a man that Daryl preferred to pretend didn't actually exist, thought that nearly everything "child related" was a waste of time and energy. Honestly, he thought that his child was a waste of time and energy. The only good thing to come out of his attitude toward Sophia was that, when Carol had finally gotten free from the abusive asshole, he hadn't sought any kind of custody or parental rights related to Sophia. So for the almost four years that Sophia had grown up under him, she hadn't done anything like trick or treating.

As a single mother, Carol had taken the only place where she could afford for her and Sophia to live. It had been a pretty dump-tastic trailer in a not-so-great trailer park on the edge of town. She'd lived there, getting on her feet, for two years of Sophia's life. She hadn't thought activities like trick or treating were safe there, and Daryl couldn't blame her. It was the kind of neighborhood where Sophia could have just as easily gotten a baggy of meth as she did a chocolate bar.

But when Daryl had finally convinced Carol, after some time of dating, to marry him, he'd done as right by her as he could. Their house wasn't the nicest house in the neighborhood, and he'd be sinking a bunch of weekends into fixer upper projects around the place, but the neighborhood was nice, the schools were good, and it was finally the kind of place where a kid could go out—along with all the other kids in the neighborhood—to collect candy door to door on that one sacred night of free treats.

And Daryl wasn't going to let Sophia miss out on it—not even if he had to piggy back her most of the way between houses that, leaving their porch lights off, were choosing not to participate in the ritual. He'd never gotten to do any of that picturesque Hallmark channel shit as a kid and he was determined that Sophia was going to do every single thing that any other red-blooded American child was supposed to do.

Daryl had embraced Sophia as his daughter as entirely as he could—an official adoption for her already in progress—and she had embraced him back just as completely.

Life, for Daryl, was finally as close to Hallmark perfect as he figured it ever could get.

"Last block, Soph," Daryl said, making sure to put some authority in his voice. "It's gettin' late and you gotta sleep. My feet are killin' me and your Ma is gettin' slower and slower. We nearly lost her two streets ago."

Behind him, Carol laughed.

"I'm keeping up," she declared. "There's no need to run, though. I'll get there eventually."

"There's no lights on here," Sophia whined. "There's not even no houses here!"

Daryl laughed to himself. The street was pretty dark. Many of the houses that had been participating had probably run out of candy. When they'd started there had been children everywhere—and parents too—but now everyone was starting to call it a night. Everyone was accepting that Halloween was over and it was time go home and have some real sweet dreams.

"It's 'cause it's time to go home, Soph," Daryl said. "You like it so much? We'll come back next year. I promise. And the year after that. Come every year you wanna come, but tonight? It's just over. There's two houses down there. You go up an' get'cha candy there and we're headin' on back."

Sophia whined in Daryl's ear, but he forgave her the complaints. More than likely she was far more tired than she let on. She didn't want the fun to end, like any kid, but she'd probably be happier to see her bed than she'd ever admit.

As they neared one of the houses with the lights on, Daryl lowered Sophia to the ground. Catching up to them, Carol rearranged Sophia's Jack-O-Lantern costume and straightened the "top" that she was wearing as a hat. Satisfied that she was ready to give her best "Trick or Treat" to the neighbor, Carol let her go and Sophia darted toward the house with Carol and Daryl following closely behind.

A woman who either lived in the house or was simply there to hand out candy was sitting on the porch swing with a bowl ready. Being every bit as tired as they were, no doubt, she didn't get off the swing. Instead, when Sophia ran up the steps and shouted "Trick or Treat" at her louder than was absolutely necessary, she held out the bowl in Sophia's direction.

"Aren't you a cute pumpkin?" The woman declared. "Here—take what you want."

Sophia took her time picking over the bowl and the woman waved at Carol and Daryl who were standing at street level. They both waved back.

"Are you dressed up too?" The woman asked.

"I'm a baker," Carol called.

"I'm a mechanic," Daryl said. He laughed to himself because his costume wasn't actually a costume. It was simply his work clothes that he hadn't bothered to change out of when he'd gotten home. Still, he was embracing his outfit since he'd had a couple of people declare that it was a very well-done costume. It came complete with grease stains which was something they all seemed to consider going the extra mile.

"I was a witch," the woman said. She laughed the throaty and gravelly laugh of someone who'd smoked most of their life. "I lost my hat two hours ago, though. So now I'm just old."

"We're all that tonight," Daryl declared. "Except—maybe Soph."

Satisfied with her candy selection, Sophia thanked the woman for her treat and barked "Trick or Treat" once more at her as a way of saying goodbye. Then she rushed down the porch steps and Daryl waved her on when she hit ground level.

"Go ahead," Daryl said. "We're watchin' you. Go ahead to that house. We're savin' us some steps. Gonna wait right here."

Not needing anymore prompting, Sophia darted on to the next house and repeated the ritual with the old couple that was sitting outside in their rockers. She took her time there, as well, so Daryl and Carol simply waited her out.

"You have a lot of people come through?" Carol asked, calling back to the had-been-witch.

"I give out probably forty pounds of candy," the woman yelled back, laughing at her own estimate of the candy. "They've been coming by since about five. She your only one?"

"Just the one," Daryl responded.

"How old is she?" The woman called.

"Seven," Carol called back.

They might have continued the shouted conversation, but Sophia came running back, her pumpkin swinging, and held the plastic container out in Carol's direction. Carol took it before Daryl bent down and allowed Sophia to mount him like a horse and shimmy her way back into her position on his back.

"Looks like she's got the right idea!" The old woman called. "Why walk when you can ride?"

"Smarter'n us!" Daryl responded. "Goodnight!"

"Goodnight! Happy Halloween!" The old woman called.

Daryl was only temporarily deafened by Sophia's final declaration of "Trick or Treat" before he turned and started back in the direction that they'd come, fully intending this time to skip all the twisting and turning up side streets to take them directly back to their home.

Trick or Treating had been a success, but all good things must, eventually, come to an end.

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"She asleep?" Daryl asked when Carol came back down the stairs from tucking Sophia in.

"She will be soon," Carol said. "How are you?"

"I ain't lying," Daryl said, "but my feet are killin' me."

Carol laughed.

"You were a very good pony tonight," she said. "And a very good Daddy."

Daryl felt his cheeks burn warm. He was still getting used to the role of being Sophia's "Daddy". Through no prompting of his, she'd asked him if she could call him by the title. Of course, he hadn't been able to refuse such a thing. It had only been then that he'd asked her if she might want him to adopt her.

But he was still getting used to the idea that it was real and the little strawberry blonde was officially his kid.

"Checked some of the candy," Daryl said. "Ain't found nothing bad in there. I think it's all gonna be OK. Threw out whatever weren't sealed up. Just in case."

"I don't think our neighbors are the kind to—put razor blades in candy or to poison children," Carol said. "But—I agree. If it isn't sealed? We don't eat it."

As though she were illustrating her point that everything else was fine to eat, Carol reached her hand into the pumpkin and came up with one of the miniature candy bars. She unwrapped it and chewed through it thoughtfully while she rummaged around in the pumpkin.

"You eatin' all the poor kid's candy while she's asleep?" Daryl asked.

Carol hummed.

"Don't think I didn't see you eating those Snickers while we were walking," Carol said.

"You ain't seen no such thing," Daryl said.

Carol laughed.

"Oh yeah?" She challenged. "So if I was to dig in your pockets right now, I wouldn't find a couple of Snickers' wrappers?"

"I had to keep my strength up for the journey," Daryl teased. "It ain't the same thing."

"I need to keep my strength up too," Carol said, "for going to bed."

Daryl hummed. He was exhausted, but his feet hurt badly enough that the idea of even standing up from the kitchen table long enough to walk to the bedroom seemed like absolute torture. At the moment, he felt like he'd rather just stay there for the duration of the night.

Daryl stretched an arm out and, catching Carol's hand, pulled her to him. She came willingly and hugged him so that he could simply rest his face against her body. She played with his hair, running her fingers through it, while she stood there.

"You need a haircut," Carol said.

"Part of my costume," Daryl said.

"Halloween's over," Carol said with a laugh. "You need a haircut."

Daryl hummed.

"Get around to it this week," he said. "I'ma tell you, though. I believe if we was to have gone somewhere where they were having a costume contest? I coulda won the thing for how many people told me how good my costume was tonight. Like—hell, I know it's good. Convinces ever'body at work I know what the hell I'm doing."

"You do know what you're doing," Carol said. "And you're very good at it."

"I like your hat," Daryl said.

Carol backed up from him and picked up her chef's hat from the table where she'd discarded it after they'd gotten inside. She turned it over in her hand before she put it back on her head.

"It's not too bad," she said. "You should've seen Andrea. She looked—more like a French maid than anything. She carried one of those big decorative candlesticks around all day."

Daryl laughed to himself. Carol worked in a law office as a secretary and she'd made good friends with two of her bosses. As a joke, the three of them had dressed up as the butcher, the baker, and the candlestick maker for a little office flair.

"Yeah?" Daryl asked. "What'd Michonne do?"

"Her costume was disgusting," Carol said with a laugh. "She went for butcher, but it came out more—more like axe murderer. There was fake blood everywhere and it got on everything."

Daryl laughed, imagining the usually well put together lawyer dripping in the costume blood.

"Yours is the best," Daryl said. "You a good baker. It's right for you."

Carol hummed.

"You think I'm a good baker?" She asked.

"I like your cupcakes," Daryl said. "You make damn good cookies. I like—hell, just about anything you bake."

Carol hummed again.

"I've been doing a lot of baking lately," Carol said. "I guess—that's what made me ask for this costume out of the three."

"I don't know about a lot," Daryl said. "You do a fair amount. I wouldn't complain if you wanted to bake some more. Load us up with a couple cakes or something."

"I didn't really mean baking in the traditional sense, Daryl," Carol said.

"What other damn kinda bakin' you doing?" Daryl asked. "Only other kind I know involves an assload of pot. And that's more Merle's style than yours."

"More like buns," Carol said. "Or— _a_ bun. A little—Dixon shaped bun?" She was smiling at him. Carol was smiling at him and, before he could even fully wrap his mind around what she was saying and come up with the question he wanted to ask her, she was nodding her head at him. She raised her eyebrows at him as soon as he hit his feet, ignoring their protests over standing on them again. "The little bun should be done sometime around April," Carol said. "But—I can promise you...it isn't an April Fool's Day joke."

Daryl's mouth was dry, and he could fully say that he knew the meaning of the word "shocked," but it was a good feeling. It was a floating feeling of disbelief too. He did the only thing that he knew to do at the moment and he wrapped his arms around Carol. She wrapped her arms around him, too, and he lifted her just barely off her feet before he put her back down the floor.

She kissed his lips and he caught her face, holding her there to make the kiss last just a little longer. She was smiling at him when he broke the kiss.

"Trick or Treat," she teased.

Daryl laughed at her.

"This a trick?" He asked.

She shook her head.

"No," she promised. "I wouldn't do that to you."

"Then it's the best damn treat there is," Daryl assured her.


End file.
